How Much I Love You
by SilenceEchoes39
Summary: As Ygritte lies dying she remembers the man who captured her heart. A man with the name of, Snow.


_Oh wow this old. Like this is really, **really** old. I actually completely forgot I wrote this one. I was just going through some of my files on my laptop when I stumbled upon this and had the insane urge to upload it even though its so incredibly old and I'm not really sure if I like it or not :\_

_Oh well._

* * *

><p>Breathing was becoming more and more difficult with each breath she managed to take and the darkness that lingered at the edge of her vision threatened to overtake her completely.<br>But even now as she lay lying on the hard frozen ground with an arrow jutting out of her chest, her thoughts still wondered back to him.  
>They always wondered back to him.<br>She remembered when she first laid eyes upon him; his hair was dark and unruly, and he wore a black cloak.  
>'A crow.' She had thought with bitter distain as he held the point of his sword at her throat. Yet she had felt little fear, even as he she stated her name to him, her voice didn't waver and she held her head high. She would not show weakness in the face of death and least of all to this man.<br>_Jon Snow_. That was the name he had given her and she had felt her lip curl into a snarl. A bastard. His name was the name of some lowly bastard. It almost shamed Ygritte to know that her death would be brought to her at the hands of not just a crow, but a bastard as well. What would the others think of her when they heard, that she had been struck down by a bastard? What would Mance say? If her father was alive, what would he say? And yet, as she prepared herself for the inevitable, as she prepared herself for his sword to pierce her back, or swipe her head clean off her shoulders, he let her go. He had spared her life and Ygritte swore it was something she would never forget for as long as she livedbecause just like that her opinion of him was changed in an instant, however she didn't know whether to think of him as brave or a fool, for she could have easily turned around and gutted him herself the moment he lowered his sword and turned his back on her.

But she didn't.

* * *

><p>By wildling tradition, she was his wife from him capturing her. However, there was nothing to say that she was supposed to fall in love with him.<br>As with most wilding relationships, their relationship was meant to be strictly sexual. There shouldn't have been any other form of attraction, and yet she found herself constantly seducing him in order to get him into her bed and fuck her. But he had not succumbed to her advances and Ygritte was almost angry with herself when she realised that she felt disappointed in him not wanting to sleep with her. It was something she was not used to. Many wildling men would have willingly taken her at the drop of a hat, but she did not want any wildling man, she wanted Jon Snow.  
>Ygritte had tried to calm her nerves by thinking about sleeping with him, what it would be like to feel him climb on top of her, to feel his hands on her body, to feel the hard muscles on his back and to feel his cock inside her, but that had only made her lust for him intensify all the more. She could not for the life of her understand why she of all people was feeling this way.<br>She was a wildling, a spearwife. She had the red hair her people considered to be one of luck, she was _kissed by fire._  
>It should be Jon Snow who was experiencing these feelings of barely contained desire. It should be him, who made unsuccessful advances towards her. Him who should be lying awake at night dreaming of the pleasure he could give her.<br>Him... Him... The crow, the deserter, the bastard.  
><em>Jon Snow<em>.

Ygritte still recalled the night when he had finally succumbed to her and they had finally had sex. All night long. Ygritte was certain to never forget it. She had relished in the feel of his skin, the taste of his lips the excitement and lust that racked her frame as their clothing slid away from their bodies and the pleasure that filled her while he was inside her. She had known all along about the pleasures that a man could bring to a woman, but that moment, when she felt his hand on her breast while he entered her, she swore she saw stars. The pleasure she had felt was unlike anything Ygritte had ever felt, there were no words to describe what she had felt in that moment. It was pure bliss.  
>They had done it twice more after that and again in a cave not long after. As Ygritte savoured the feel of his kisses and the comfort that was provided in his warm embrace, she could not help but wonder if this was what love felt like. But her pride as spearwife would not allow her to believe it, she convinced herself that it was merely because he was a <em>'good fuck'<em> as one would put it.  
>But then he had left, and the happiness Ygritte had felt had come to an abrupt end. Only then, did she realise that how much she truly loved him.<p>

* * *

><p>Ygritte could have killed him, for sure as his back faced her. It would have been a quick clean kill, he wouldn't have even seen her. And she would have done it.<br>But something stopped her.  
>She remembered the all the moments they had shared<br>_'I hold no feelings for that miserable crow. For that wretched bastard.'_ That is what she had told herself, but no matter how hard she might have tried to convince herself, she could not bring herself to shoot her arrow at him. Why? The answer was simple; she still loved him.  
>Ygritte watched from the cover of the trees as he commanded his men, she saw him clutching to a makeshift crutch and instead of feeling the pride and accomplishment that she usually felt when she had managed to critically wound an enemy, she felt sadness and guilt.<br>Had she caused her love pain?

And now here she was, lying in his arms on the brink of death. Somehow the pain was gone as he held her.  
>When she looked into his eyes, she caught a glimpse of tears. He was crying and whether he realised it or not, she did not know.<br>As his tears traveled down his bloody and dirt streaked face, she desired nothing more at that moment than to reach ou and caress his face, something she had never done to anyone before and something that she did not have the strength to do at the moment. Even though she knew that she was dying, Ygritte felt relief and happiness now that she had gotten to see Jon for one last time and be held in his arms before she fell into death's embrace.  
>She wanted to tell him that she loved him, loved him more than any words or amount of love making could show for. She should have told him that she was happy that she had gotten gaze upon his handsome face before she died, but even in her final moments, her pride was there to hold her back. Ygritte still remembered the desperation in Jon's voice as he desperately tried to tell her to hold on. He almost sounded like he was choking. Maybe that was because he was choking.<br>_So he loves me also. _Knowing that made her fading heart swell with contentment.  
>"You're not going to die, Ygritte." He had told her in a voice that wavered ever so slightly. "You're not."<br>She had managed to use the last ounce of her strength to cup his cheek. His skin was cold and wet with sweat and blood and stubble at the base of his cheeks prickled her calloused fingers.  
>Ygritte would have liked nothing more than to kiss Jon at that moment, but instead she said; "... You know nothing Jon Snow..."<p>

_About just how much... I love you.  
><em>

And with that last thought, she fell into death's welcoming embrace.


End file.
